Domesticity
by efficacious humorosity
Summary: AU.  Ron/OC.  As Ron and Sandy try to settle into married life, Sandy can't help but feel like there's something crucial missing.  Surprises and some good ol' fashioned drama ensure that their life together is never quiet.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own anything. Please leave a review! **

Chapter 1

"Uggggghhhhh."

Sandy Weasley slumped down onto her bed, sweaty and exhausted after a full day of Quidditch practice.

"Get up, love," Ron said, poking her in the side. "You know I hate it when the bed starts to smell like sweat."

Groaning, she pulled herself into a seated position. "I'm bloody tired," she moaned. "Hammers works us likes dogs! And we're just the reserves!"

"Well, I expect we'll be starting for the Cannons soon enough," Ron told her encouragingly. "Thompson is about to retire and- what's that one Chaser's name?- Grisham, is it? Is so abysmal that Hammers simply _can't_ afford to keep either of us in the reserves for long. Buck up, love." He kissed her sweetly on the cheek.

"You're right," she mumbled, but she sighed heavily.

It was November, over two months since Harry and Hermione had departed for their teaching posts at Hogwarts. Sandy and Ron were living in the apartment by themselves now and had started training daily with the Chudley Cannons.

Sandy Weasley felt like there was something missing.

She supposed she should be used to the feeling by now, but she had assumed that once Voldemort was gone, her depression conquered, her love life set in stone, and her career begun she would feel some sense of… satisfaction. Instead, she felt as though her life were in a standstill. As though she were frozen in time, going nowhere, getting nothing done.

She missed her brother terribly. She had never been apart from him for this long, and she longed for his company. Sandy and Harry exchanged owls almost every free moment of the day, and sometimes even in the ridiculous hours of the night, if Harry could sneak out of Hermione's watchful eye to the owlery.

Her job was nowhere near as spectacular as she had expected it to be. When she had been drafted by the Cannons, she had been expecting… more than this. She had not expected to immediately start for the team, but she at least expected some decent level of respect from her fellow teammates. She was the only woman on the team, and, according to Ron, she was the first woman to play for the Cannons in thirty years. None of the men, with the exception of Ron, showed her any respect whatsoever. To top it all off, Coach Hammers insisted on working them like dogs despite the fact that they were the newest reserves and it seemed unlikely, whatever Ron thought, that they would be starting anytime soon.

She just felt as though, after all she had been through and all she had accomplished, she had no idea where her life was going now.

The only thing she was sure of was Ron. She involuntarily smiled as she thought happily of the freedom that they now had together. Conditioning for the Cannons was everyday from seven to eleven in the morning. Afterwards, they would do whatever they wanted, which usually involved lunch, a short nap, then a quick trip somewhere in London.

"Sandy, did you hear me?" Ron asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Huh?" she said, shaking herself. "No, sorry. What'd you say?"

"I said, 'Do you want the shower first?'" he repeated, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

"Sure, thanks," she said, smiling at him.

"After we both take our showers, we can go grab some lunch, then we need to go get some groceries."

"Groceries?" she echoed, confused. "Why do need groceries? We usually eat out."

"George is coming for dinner, remember?" he reminded her patiently. "You promised him you'd cook for him?"

Realization flashed across her face. "_Shit!_" She stripped off her Quidditch robes and sprinted into the bathroom, leaving a very amused Ron in her wake.

DDDDDD

_Ding-dong!_

"Ron, watch this for me for a moment and make sure it doesn't burn while I get the door, okay?" Sandy said quickly.

"Sure thing, love," he said, stepping in front of the stove and watching the pepper steak in the pan intently.

She chuckled to herself as she made her way from the kitchen to the entrance hall. Opening the door, she revealed a very flustered and frustrated looking Ginny, supporting a very nauseous and drunk looking George. "Merlin," Sandy breathed, stepping forward and taking George from Ginny, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She nearly buckled under his weight, but she managed to steady herself as she asked, "What _happened_?"

"I don't know!" Ginny snapped. "I walked into his room to remind him that he was going to your place for dinner, and I found him passed out on his bed, like this, puke all over the floor! It was disgusting!" She inhaled deeply. "Look, I'm sorry to snap at you, but… Neville and I… we're getting married next month. You know that. I can't… I can't be taking care of my wreck of an older brother all the time."

Sandy stared at her dumbly for a moment. _He's your brother! He's your family!_ She wanted to scream. _You should want to take care of him!_

Instead, all she said was, "Ginny… we've got a guest room here, and Harry's and Hermione's room is empty as long as they're at Hogwarts. He can live with us."

Ginny's face brightened. "Do you mean it, Sandy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I mean it," she sighed, hoisting George up a little more.

"Thanks, thanks so much!" Ginny squealed, hugging Sandy tightly, nearly knocking her and George over. "Why don't you just have him Apparate back to the Burrow and get his things when he's sober? You are the _best_ sister-in-law ever!"

When Ginny had gone, Sandy kicked the door shut and began heaving him toward the guest room. "Sandy?" Ron called from the kitchen. "Is pepper steak _supposed_ to be black and smell like smoke?"

"Galloping gargoyles!" she yelped, dropping George onto the floor unceremoniously. "_No!_ Ron, you were supposed to keep it from burning!" She hastily turned off the stove and turned on the vent of the microwave, hoping the smoke detector would not go off.

"Yes, well… I didn't know how to turn the stove off," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'm sure George won't mind if we take him out to dinner."

"About that…" Sandy said, taking him by the hand and leading him into the entrance hall, where George was passed out in a heap on their floor. "Ginny brought him here. She found him passed out, drunk, in his room, surrounded by his own vomit. She… she says she can't take care of him anymore, what with her and Neville getting married next month and all."

The resulting blue streak that erupted from Ron's mouth was long enough to turn into a novel. "That little bitch," he exclaimed finally. "She agreed to take care of George until Charlie could transfer back to England!" He sighed, and glanced down at his older brother. "What are we going to do? Take him to Shell Cottage and ask Bill and Fleur to look after him?"

"Actually…" Sandy said, somewhat hesitantly. She wasn't sure how her husband would react to the next thing she would say. "I told Ginny he could live here with us. We do have that empty guest room."

"Sandy…"

"Hear me out," she began eagerly. "George and I have gotten really close since you and I graduated, as you know, because I understand the connection he had with Fred, because that's what I have with Harry. I can sympathize with him. And you and I have a healthy thing going here. And we'll have a lot of time for him, because the only thing we _have_ to do everyday is training, and that's only for four hours! I think this would be really good for him. Then, we can help him get back on his feet. Get him a job, a girlfriend, a life… I've been where he is before, and it's horrible. But I know how to get back."

Ron smiled sideways at his wife. "I was going to say, 'I think that's a fucking great idea,' but thanks for justifying it anyway." He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "Come on, let's get him in bed."

DDDDDD

Ron and Sandy were sitting in bed, Sandy reading a book and Ron watching the television (conveniently the _first_ Muggle device that he had learned to operate), when a sudden tapping at the window startled them. Sandy nearly flew out of bed in excitement when she realized that an owl was tapping on their window, a letter clutched in its beak. "Excellent!" she said cheerily, throwing open the window and letting the owl in. "Harry must have snuck into the owlery!" Taking the letter from the owl, she ripped open the letter enthusiastically and read:

_Dear Sandy, _

_ Things are going pretty well here. Teaching classes is much better than I expected. The students are great (for the most part, there are a few twats here that fancy themselves familiar enough with me to call me Harry rather than 'Professor'; don't worry though, I set them straight). It really is amazing to be doing something so worthwhile. I mean- our DADA education was so patchy. Lupin and fake-Moody were really the only good teachers. It's a surprise that we managed to survive at all, given what we had to do. But knowing that I can give these kids valuable, useful knowledge that could save their lives- it's an incredible feeling! We've saved lives before, but this is something entirely different. It's much better, no doubt about that. These kids needs to be prepared; Voldemort isn't the only evil wizard in the world. And I'm making sure that they will be. _

_ Hermione is doing well, but if you want the details, you should write to her. I expect she'll be bloody hocked off if you don't. She hates it when I sneak out of our office late at night to send you letters, but I miss you terribly. So if I can manage it, I'll do it. _

_ How are things with you and Ron? Is that arse Coach Hammers still working you to death? Are you settling into married life? I'm not sure you could call what the four of us had over the summer 'married life'; Hermione and I were almost always around. So are you enjoying your newfound time alone with your new husband? I do hope so, and I also hope that you are liking your job better. _

_ How's George doing? You mentioned last time that he had been visiting you and Ron a lot, seeking comfort? You and I are the only twins he and Fred were really close to, so I expect he's looking for some insight from you. But I know you'll do all you can to help him. Let him know if you or George needs anything from me. _

_ Finally, how is Ron? Is he being a prat to you? If he is, tell him I'll Apparate back from Hogwarts right now (as impossible as Hermione is always saying that is) and kick his arse. If not, tell that prat to write me. Hogwarts just isn't the same without him. _

_ Write me back! _

_Love, _

_Harry_

Sandy immediately began scripting her reply. When she had finished, she gave it to the owl, who took off into the night almost immediately. As she crawled back into bed, Ron remarked, "You really miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said sadly. "I really do. It's been over two months since I last saw him."

"Well, maybe we can go visit him in Hogsmeade next month," Ron suggested, hoping that would cheer her up, as he slung his arm around her.

"Maybe," she said, sounding doubtful. "But that would be so close to Christmas, I don't really see the point." Sighing, she said, "Anyway, don't worry about it too much, Ronald. I'm fine. Really."

He looked at her doubtfully, but she flashed a fake smile at him. He leaned toward her and kissed her deeply, his hand wandering beneath her shirt and under the waistband of her pants. "Let me try to take your mind off Harry, eh?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Please read and review. I don't own it. **

Chapter 2

BAM!

The loud noise startled Sandy Weasley awake. "What the fuck?" she muttered to herself. Then, shaking her husband awake, she said, "Ron! _Ron!_ Did you hear that?"

"Wha-?" he asked groggily. "Hear what?"

"There was a loud noise just a minute ago," she told him. "It came from the kitchen, I think."

He sighed and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Well, come on, then. Let's go check it out."

She slipped her hand into his and grabbed her wand, and together they groped their way through the darkness. When they finally made it to the entrance of the kitchen, she murmured, "_Lumos._"

The light emitting from the end of her wand revealed the horrific scene before them. George was collapsed in a heap on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. He still clutched a large steak knife in his hands, which explained his slit wrists.

"_Merlin_," Sandy exhaled, dropping onto the ground on her knees. She performed a quick spell she had learned once, a long time ago, which closed the cuts on his wrists.

Meanwhile, Ron stood, horrified, his mouth wide open as he started at his elder brother. "Help me pick him up and Apparate him to St. Mungo's. I may have healed his cuts, but he's still lost a lot of blood, and I _don't_ know how to fix that," Sandy said. When there was no response from her husband, she turned to look at him. Taking in the look on his face, she said, "Ron, I know this is hard. And I know this is scary. But we need to get him to St. Mungo's. Please? We need to save his life."

He nodded mutely and helped her lift George. Then they Disapparated with a loud crack.

DDDDDDDDDDDD

Ron and Sandy sat in the corner of the waiting room, snuggled together. Sandy was fast asleep, her head nestled in the crook of Ron's neck. He, however, found himself unable to close his eyes.

George. His own _brother_ had just tried to kill himself. And it had taken him completely by surprise.

He had known, of course, that George felt incomplete, alone, devastated with Fred. He had turned to alcohol and a string of inappropriate women. But… he had never expected this. And on the first night he had moved in, too. Just when Ron was beginning to hope that he and Sandy could help him, could fix him.

"Ron? You alright?" Sandy asked, shifting her head so that she could look up at him. She had apparently just woken, for she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Of course I'm not," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her tightly. "My brother just tried to kill himself. I am _not_ alright."

She sighed. "I know. I'm scared too. I've never dealt with anything like this before."

He turned to her, surprised. "Yes, you have! After you and Harry defeated Voldemort, you withdrew into your hole for months!"

"I know I did," she said, "but I never even considered suicide."

"You didn't?" he repeated, looking astonished. "But- I thought you were thinking about it. You wouldn't talk to me anymore, you barely talked to Harry and Hermione. You were barely doing anything, much less eating for Merlin's sake! I was convinced you were considering s- you know what I mean. Why do you think I kept such a close eye on you?"

She shrugged. "I know it seems like I should have, considering how I was acting back then. But I never did. I knew it would destroy you, destroy Harry, destroy Hermione. As much as my life _sucked_ back then, I didn't want to do that. I still had things to live for."

"Sometimes," he admitted in a whisper, "when I came into your dorm to comfort you, I stayed up the whole night, just listening to you breath. Scared that one day you stop yourself from breathing- forever."

"Ron," she sighed, and she leaned up and kissed him. "Don't think about that anymore. I wasn't thinking about it then, and I'm never going to think about it."

He kiss her again and hugged her tightly. "I've already lost one brother. I don't want to lose George as well."

"You're not going to," she promised him, despite the fact that the ability to keep such a promise was beyond her power. "We saved him, for now. And he's going to get the help he needs here."

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" said a Healer, approaching them.

"Yes?" Ron said, looking nervous and expectant at the same time. "How's George?"

"He's stable, for now," replied the Healer. "You got him here in time, and sealing up his wrists helped a lot. He lost a lot of blood, but I was able to do a Replenishing Charm, so he should be just fine."

"What about, you know, his mental health?" asked Sandy, biting her lip.

"Ma'am," said the Healer in a measured voice, "St. Mungo's is a hospital for magical maladies and injuries. It's very odd that we even Healed George, given the fact that his injuries were nonmagical. But who are we to turn away a dying man? The point is, we don't have a department to help George with his mental health. Whatever made him try to take his own life tonight is nonmagical, and we cannot help you."

"B-but," stammered Ron, growing red with indignation, "where are we supposed to take him? How is he supposed to get help? My wife and I- we're not prepared to give him the kind of help he needs!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but, strictly speaking, that's none of our business. George will be able to go home in the morning." With that, the Healer left.

Ron sat down, numb. Then, desperate with hope, he turned to his wife, saying, "What do we do, Sandy? What do we do?"

She frowned, shaking her head and saying, "I don't know…"

DDDDDDD

"Sandy! How _are_ you?"

Harry beamed brightly at his twin's image in his two-way mirror. Professor Flitwick had charmed them to work just as the mirrors used by James and Sirius had, as a gift for the twins after their graduation. "That's not important right now," she told him. "Where's Hermione? Could you put her on?"

Sandy was alone in the apartment, as Ron was at St. Mungo's readying George to come home. "Ouch," said Harry, scowling. "I haven't had a face to face conversation with you in weeks, and the first time we have one you want to talk to Hermione?"

"Harry, this is really important," she said beseechingly. "Please? You'll understand."

"Of course," he said, looking concerned now. Then he called over his shoulder, "'Mione! Sandy wants to talk to you!"

After a brief moment, a harried and flushed looking Hermione appeared next to Harry in Sandy's mirror. "Sandy, _hi!_ How are you? We both miss you terribly. Sorry, but we've been busy. I'm teaching so many classes!"

"That's great, Hermione, really," Sandy said, managing to flash her best mate a small smile. "Unfortunately, I didn't call just to catch up. I- something bad has happened."

The grin faded from both Harry's and Hermione's faces. "What is it?" Harry urged her. "What's happened? Are you alright? Is Ron alright? Speaking of Ron, where is he?"

"Ron's at St. Mungo's, getting George ready to come home right now," she told them, grimacing. "Ginny didn't want to care for him anymore, so we offered to let him live here. Last night he… he… he tried to kill himself."

"Oh, sweet Merlin," breathed Hermione, clapping a hand to her mouth.

At the same time, Harry asked, "How is he?"

"He's stable now. But clearly he has some mental issues. And St. Mungo's won't treat him for those. The Healer said we're lucky they even treated him last night, since it wasn't a magical medical issue. And I don't want to take him to a Muggle shrink, because how could one help him when he has to lie about the majority of his life? I don't know what to do, and I was hoping 'Mione knew someone who could treat him."

"Hmmmm," said Hermione, biting her lip as she thought. Suddenly, her brown eyes lit up and she said, "That's it! You could take him to the Squib Institute of Psychology!"

"The Squib Institute of Psychology?" echoed both twins incredulously, staring at her.

"What the _hell_ is the Squib Institute of Psychology?" asked Harry, looking at his girlfriend.

"It's a league of Squibs who have degrees in psychology or psychiatry. They're the institution that treats the majority of wizarding depression cases!" explained Hermione as though Harry were daft. "They could treat George _and_ he wouldn't have to lie about the wizarding world."

"Hermione, you are truly brilliant," Sandy said appreciatively. She heard the front door of their apartment open. "Oh, shit- I have to go. I'll write you both soon! I love you both!"

Harry and Hermione returned her sentiments before she replaced the mirror on her nightstand. She made her way out into the entrance hall to find Ron helping George down the hallway. "Here, let me help," she said, taking George's other arm gently. "How are you, George?"

He glared at her. "I just tried to kill myself. How bloody well do you think I am?"

"Point taken," she said.

"He's been like this since they discharged him," Ron grunted. "He seems to think that we should have let him die."

"Well, it's clearly what I wanted," George said, glaring at them. "But- thanks to you two- I'm here. Are you happy?"

"You didn't really want to die," Sandy snapped. "If you really wanted to die, you'd have performed the Killing Curse on yourself. Instead, you slit your wrists, like a Muggle would. You didn't want to die, this was a cry for much-needed help. And since I don't doubt that you will actually kill yourself if we don't get you that help, we're going to listen."

George was sullenly silent a moment before he said, "Whatever. What do you know, anyway?"

Ron opened his mouth to scold his brother, but Sandy beat him to it. "I know quite a bit, thank you," she said stiffly. "And I know a lot about losing people. And I know that if I lost Harry, I'd be devastated. I'd feel empty. I'd feel like the world had stopped spinning, so I should stop living. That's what I know."

"I- I'm sorry, Sandy," George said softly. They had made it to his room, and they helped him sit on the edge of his bed. "That was a dumb thing to say. I know you've lost people." He reached toward the nightstand, as if looking for something. He turned sharply to the couple in front of him and demanded, "Where's my wand?"

"Oh, we've completely George-proofed the house," said Ron. "We'll be keeping your wand, as well as anything else we think you could use to hurt yourself, in a locked trunk, which only Sandy and I will be able to open. We've magically reinforced the windows and locked them so only we will be able to open them."

"You've taken my wand?" echoed George incredulously.

"George," said Sandy gently, "please. You scared us. A lot. And we're going to get you help, but, until then, we intend to keep a close eye on you." She paused and sighed. "Why don't you go ahead and get some rest? Our bedroom is all the way down the hall, if you need us."

DDDDDDDD

It was nearly midnight when Ron broke the silence, saying, "I'm worried. D'you think he'll be okay?"

Sandy rolled over in bed to face her husband as she replied, "I don't really know, Ron. But I've found a way to get him help, and we _will_ keep a close watch on him. We've even cast that Sensor Charm all over the house so that we'll know if he leave his room at night. You need to get some rest, sweetheart, you haven't slept in days."

"I know," he said, sounding stressed. "I'm just scared. I don't want to- I can't- lose anyone else. I lost Fred, I almost lost you and Harry, and I almost lost you again. I just…"

"Shhhh," she said comfortingly. She captured his lips with hers, her tongue gently slipping into his mouth and causing him to moan longingly. "Ron, you didn't lose me. I'm right here, and I'm all yours, and I'm not going anywhere. We _can_ do this. Together- you and me- we can save George. You don't have to lose anyone else. I promise."


End file.
